Day by Day
My favorite thing about myself is that when I wake up every morning, each day feels different and new. Like I had just been born: looking up into the smooth surface of my ceiling for the first time.
That used to be a great comfort for me.
When each day is new, you can be whoever you want to be, right?
Now, I just get anxious: thinking of what face I'll have to put on that day. I feel new, but forced. This act is so draining, and sometimes I wish I didn't wake up to my smooth ceiling at all, or that I would forget the days before that, making it truly unknown. There is hope for the unknown.
I want to feel that again, not knowing what to expect. It could be, it can be. Life is what you make it, but I am so tired now.
Is squandering your precious time redeemable?